


Service

by aunt_zelda



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Cunnilingus, Explicit Consent, F/F, Service, Throne Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Librarian!Cassandra timeline. Cassandra is weary after another long day of dealing with dragons and is alone in her throne room. Lamia comes in to comfort her and provide her with a little distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Service

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Librarians Kink Meme. Prompt can be found here: http://librarians-kink.livejournal.com/1228.html?thread=716#t716
> 
> The prompt was: _Cassandra/Lamia, throne sex. It can be set in canon, or you can write me Prince!Cassandra, or Librarian!Cassandra or Apple!Cassandra - basically, anything, so long as she gets a throne!_
> 
> WARNING: mild references to past Du Lac/Lamia, implied abusive relationship between the two.

It had been another long day. Cassandra could not remember a day that had not been long, not since the dragons returned. The world, blasted with fire, its people scattered and picked off by the hundreds. Survivors were few and far between, and growing fewer by the day. 

And yet those that lived knelt to her. Swore allegiance, loyalty, fealty. People who would once have not even given her a second glance now bowed as she passed them by. 

She did not deserve it. There was only so much she could do and it was not enough. This world was dying. And she would not be able to save them all once she opened the portal to another world. A few hundred, perhaps? Cassandra could not bear to think of saving less than that, though she knew, deep down, it was far likelier. 

“My lady,” Lamia appears, feet as silent as ever. “Have I interrupted?” she asks, already shrinking back. Du Lac was not kind to her, she still flinches from Cassandra at times, remembering him instead. Cassandra wishes that Du Lac had died more slowly, a swift fate was too kind for one such as him. 

“No, my guardian,” Cassandra smiles, more brightly than she feels, because Lamia deserves to see her happy and content. Lamia gave up so much for her, and has asked for so little in return. 

“Taking a break from the masses?” Lamia asks, approaching Cassandra and sitting on the dais. Cassandra had refused a true throne, found it too ostentatious, selfish. They had insisted though, on at least a chair, on a raised platform. Some of her devoted followers had snuck in and adorned it, draped jewelry and fastened decorations to it. Some of the younger ones had attached silverware to the back, forks and spoons and dull butter knives sticking up in a fan-like pattern, a reference to a tv show Cassandra never saw, a book series that was never completed. Cassandra has not had the heart to remove them, though she dislikes the presentation. She is not their Queen, no matter what they call her. 

“I must confess they … exhaust me, at times,” Cassandra rubs at her temple with soot-stained fingernails. “Them, and my duties.”

“ _Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown_ ,” Lamia recites. 

Cassandra blinks. “What?”

“No room in that brain for some Shakespeare, my lady?” Lamia laughs. “He used maths too, you know.” 

“Iambic pentameter,” Cassandra mutters, seeing the patterns flicker before her eyes. Text overlaid with numbers, counters, sonnets reduced to codes being filled by curling script –

“My lady?” Lamia reaches forward, touching Cassandra’s shoulder. 

Cassandra is grounded once more. She reaches up, wraps her hand around Lamia’s wrist, holding her there, skin against skin. 

They breathe, in time, together, a steady pattern, a simple one. 

“I don’t wear a crown.” Cassandra says at last, her mind calm once more. 

Lamia shrugs. “You do so much, you hold so much responsibility in your hands, so many lives …” she pulls free of Cassandra’s grasp gently, and sinks to her knees before the throne. 

“I’ve told you, I don’t like it when people do that.” Cassandra sighs.

“This isn’t to swear fealty, my lady,” Lamia says, smiling, resting her hands on Cassandra’s knees. “Please, allow me to give you some relief, if only for a little while.” Lamia pushes Cassandra’s knees apart, slides her hands up underneath the red fabric of her dress. 

Cassandra leans back in her throne – it is a throne, though she denies it – and lets Lamia pleasure her. A warm mouth, a clever tongue, fingers rough with calluses but soft in these matters … of the few pleasures left on this world, this is the one she allows herself to indulge in. 

“Yes … yes …” Cassandra moans, gripping the arms of the throne. She aches to touch Lamia, to tangle her sooty fingers in Lamia’s dark hair, but Lamia does not like her head touched during these moments, finds herself overwhelmed with old memories if such a thing happens. 

Lamia hums, grazes her teeth ever so slightly against Cassandra’s inner thigh. 

Cassandra does not scream when she comes, she whimpers, a tiny trailing sound that belongs to the girl she used to be, not the woman she is now. 

Lamia straightens up, grinning broadly, chin slick and dripping. 

“Come up here,” Cassandra beckons. “Please.” 

Lamia does. The throne is wide enough and sturdy enough to allow it, though only just. She perches on Cassandra’s lap, eyes downcast, suddenly shy despite her recent actions. 

“My guardian,” Cassandra murmurs, pressing kisses to Lamia’s neck, the skin just above her collarbone, the corner of her wet mouth, and finally to her lips. 

Lamia gasps, clings to Cassandra tightly. Cassandra will have bruises later, on her upper arms, and she does not care, in fact she relishes the thought of bearing Lamia’s marks on her body for all to see. They will envy Lamia for having the honor of serving the Librarian in such an intimate manner. In truth, they should envy Cassandra for having Lamia’s loyalty. 

“Will you let me?” Cassandra asks, her hand resting at Lamia’s belt buckle. 

“My lady …” Lamia moans, pressing her face to the crook of Cassandra’s neck. “If it pleases you.”

“If it pleases _you_ , Lamia.” Cassandra says. She must be sure, she must be certain. “Would it?”

“It would, my lady. _Please_.” Lamia’s voice cracks. 

Cassandra makes short work of the belt and zipper, tugs at the dark fabric of Lamia’s pants until there is room enough for her hand. Lamia is already wet, and Cassandra plunges her fingers into the warmth between Lamia’s legs. This seems hotter than dragon fire, more exhilarating than wild magic, in this moment, curling her fingers inside Lamia and making her squirm and moan. 

Lamia struggles to stay still, clings tighter to Cassandra, sinks her teeth into Cassandra’s neck in an effort to remain quiet and controlled. She fails to do so for long, crying out and whimpering, shuddering, shaking. Cassandra holds her, practically cradling her, through the aftershocks. 

She prefers to have Lamia in a bed, though it took some time for Lamia to accept that. Lamia seemed to consider herself unworthy of such luxury, would pleasure Cassandra on tables and against walls, but never in a bed. Cassandra prefers her there now, tangled in the sheets, limbs splayed out. 

One of the decorations of the throne falls to the floor, clattering in the silence of the room. Another falls and tangles in Cassandra’s hair, some string of colorful beads by the feel of it. 

Lamia reaches up, removing it, and drapes it over the corner of the throne. Cassandra leans forward and kisses Lamia, holds for far longer than usual, unwilling to end the kiss quickly. 

Soon, Cassandra will have to leave this room. Her duties call, her people need her, and the dragons are only growing stronger and more fearsome. And Lamia will be at her side, protecting her and serving her, until one of them falls and even magic cannot bring them back. 

For now, though, Cassandra pulls Lamia close, and lets the moment linger.


End file.
